Delivering Cuddlies
by Sganovik
Summary: Drinking on a rock above a forest, beneath a shattered moon. The Courier knows not what fate has in store for him, and cares even less, as long as the monsters that blasted the moon to pieces do not come after him.
1. Prologue: New Arrivals

Prologue: New Arrivals

"Most amazing thing ever, Courier," he bitterly muttered. Why, he could say that his whole life was just an ongoing parade of amazing things and every last thing was more amazing than the previous. Life-threatening ordeals were coming at him like the beams of a laser gatling and only served to convince him that some higher power was seriously pissed at him on a daily basis. Really, the only thing that kept him going most days was the thought that, apparently, said power was not cross with him only. Empirical proof of that hypothesis was the fact that almost all of the ordeals ended horribly for everyone but the Courier. On good days he liked to think that it was because The Powers That Be held him in higher regard than the poor sods who tried to kill him, but deep down he knew that the only thing that saved him was his supply of Turbo.

What was it with him and murder these days? Was it Benny that started him on this dark and bloody path? Or was the bastard just a convenient excuse for the Courier's homicidal tendencies? Depression kept sipping in through the cracks in his soul and left a bad taste in his mouth. A drink was in order, it seemed, so a hand entered the pocket of a duster and withdrew a small bottle with a crudely written "Sierra Madre Martini" on it. A large gulp later the depression was safely repressed and the Courier decided to address the matter at hand, namely where was he, by the name of all that was fuck.

"Well," he mused a second later, "fuck Kansas and also fuck Earth for that matter." Beneath him was a lush, green forest and the sun was just rising, thus giving the place a most idyllic appearance. The gentle breeze picked up and made him smile. Said smile turned strained and just a bit angry when he noticed the state of the resident moon, namely blasted in pieces."Nope, fuck Earth and fuck me as well," the Courier thought sullenly as he drained the martini and threw away the bottle.

Sometimes he entertained the thought of retirement, just going away somewhere quiet and growing crops or something. And then the wanderer within raised its ugly head and kicked him in the bum and urged him to go forward. "So many people to meet," it seemed to say in a jovial tone, "so many places to see." Deep within, The Courier knew that as long as he could move, he'd keep walking the roads… and that was the bloody problem, because all this fucking wandering had put him in his current place - sitting on a rock, a whiskey in his hand, watching the sunrise… on the same planet with beings capable of _blasting their own moon in pieces._

"Well, enough self-pity" he decided and lit a cigarette, the second for the day. Standing up, the man turned his back to the sun and started looking for a way down. If he was lucky, he'd find some people (hopefully) that needed things delivered, or at least with some shit that needed doing. He was a courier and he had some new roads to walk and new people (hopefully) to see… as soon as he figured what to do with the malfunctioning Pip-Boy 3000 map tab.

Yeah, fuck Earth.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Cute, The Cuddly and The Courier

It was survival of the fittest that guided existence back in the Mojave. One adapted and survived or did not adapt and perished. This was the guideline for humanity back home, the very reason, hardwired in the human biology, that mankind had survived after the war. In such harsh conditions, one had to desensitize himself and dehumanize others in order to survive. Banditry, murder, rape and all kinds of depravity were carried out, simply because might made right.

Being a courier back home meant a lot for all parties involved, for couriers were a connection between communities, delivering knowledge of the world outside what meager fences human beings had made to try and keep said world out. These people were brave enough to wander the wasteland and face the dangers it presented, be it for money or otherwise. They also had the dubious honor of meeting all the nice beasties said wasteland had to offer. Those included, but were not limited to deathclaws, radscorpions of various sizes and big, flying, bugs most commonly referred to as cazadores. The last two were also the most poisonous critters that the radiation-perverted nature had to offer in his little slice of paradise.

This place, however, vastly differed from the Mojave. For one, the Geiger counter on his trusty Pip-Boy was suspiciously silent. On the downside, the map tab on said device was not operational, so he'd have to wing it. Eh, at least he could prove Elijah wrong. Next were all these… trees and leaves and… growth and plants. Not even in Vault 22 had he seen such lush flora, and this place even looked natural. The downside was the fauna, which by far consisted of large, black and cuddly beasties with berry-red eyes… much like the ones that were currently howling at him. Really, it was as if someone'd decided to make life-sized deathclaw dolls.

"Heh, mind the sharp edges, kids."

With a pistol in one hand and a displacer glove on the other, Courier Six set to deliver what he delivered best - murder. All fun and games these days, huh?

* * *

><p>While The Courier's valorous tale's beginning was ending in a morbid shower of local wildlife guts, gore and fired .45 Auto cartridges, not far away a certain weapon dork with a red hood and enviable scythe-wielding skills had just employed a successful landing strategy and was about to embark on a search for her sister and some unspecified relic… that is, until she heard howling and gunfire not far from her current location. Ruby Rose, prospective huntress extraordinaire, ran off to help a comrade in need… and almost crashed into Weiss, the heiress standing completely still, absorbed in observing the purest example of gory pandemonium she'd witnessed up to date.<p>

The small clearing in front of the pair currently looked more like a slaughterhouse, Grimm bodies and innards strewn everywhere. In the middle of all the carnage stood a man, pistol in hand and some blocky glove on the other. The silence that permeated the place was only violated by two things - the death rattles of a beowolf and _the_ _jaunty tune the stranger was whistling._

"Um, Weiss? Who's that?"

The Schnee heiress started a little, being broken out of her stupor . That was sort of the question, was it not? She was proud of her memory, but she had not seen anyone even remotely similar to this person. Aside from his weapons, so different from the current designs in Veil, there was his overall appearance to consider, as well - a duster coat in dark blue color and some sort of star-circle emblem on its back complemented by a wide-brimmed black hat.

"Hush, you dolt" she hissed, "I am observing him."

And just like that she broke her subject out of his reverie and made him aware of her presence - a bad thing, considering the complete apathy he'd demonstrated earlier, while killing all those Grimm. A pistol was trained on them and a pair of cold blue eyes fixed them with a merciless stare… and then he withdrew his weapon and safely holstered it under the coat.

"Why, hello there, " the man greeted in a dead, mechanical voice.

Were she a commoner, Weiss would have put on the best WTF face within her powers, but being a heiress just did not agree with basic human reactions when facing the surreal… not to mention that Many-starred dusterman's mouth did NOT seem to move even when he spoke. Surreal, on the other hand, quite agreed with Ruby and so she just smiled and almost danced up to the strange man with a wide, innocent smile and a large scythe in her dainty hands.

"Hello!"

'And the Red Hood Dolt is certainly shaping up to be a real hazard to my health' Weiss thought dejectedly, then went to assist Ruby with the potential killer they'd found in the woods.

Was this even an exam anymore?

* * *

><p>'Is this some sort of loyal member's bullshit compartment I'm getting right now?' thought The Courier, The Light trained at a pair of girls staring nervously at him.<p>

Being a man of perception and intelligence, he had some trouble making the connection between a large forest, black and cuddly deathclaw rejects and cute little girls nervously observing him and the dark depths of his pistol's barrel.

Having nothing against little girls, especially cute ones, The Courier holstered his gun, The Light Shining in the Darkness, and opted for being polite to the nervous pair. It would be bad form of him to be impolite to the first humans he'd laid his gaze on and he could… would… NOT have that. At all.

"Why, hello there."

There, greeting done with. He could only hope that the choker-mounted Ultravoice he'd devised after his throat got… damaged wasn't going to put them even more on edge. Luckily (yeah, he went there) only the one dressed in white seemed put off by the greeting.

The trip down the road to Whathefucksville, a road he'd been traversing with increasing frequency lately, continued when the other girl came up to him, a large smile on her face and a larger scythe in her small hands. Just… what was with these people?

"Hello!" she announced in a chipper tone, beaming at him.

"Wait, you dolt!" the one in white hissed and dragged scythe-girl away.

Being the smart person he was, The Courier started observing the pair while they talked about strangers and why it was not a good idea to talk to them. Observation skills made life in the wasteland longer and somewhat easier but right now his teeth were gnashing furiously even as his brain ran a mile a minute. What he mistakenly thought was a scythe just scant few seconds ago was a much more sinister monstrosity, born in the twisted mind of a maniac with quite the penchant for murder. A pair of slender, curved blades were mounted to what looked like an anti-materiel rifle in the hands of a small girl with a bright smile and innocent countenance. Yeah, no doubt in his mind - another successful trip to Whathefucksville was completed. How did he know? He knew because a few meters ahead of him the most adorable Grim Reaper pretender and The Winter Fairy herself were having a heated discussion about the possible danger he presented. Deciding against initiating further contact at this time, The Courier quietly slunk into the shadows of the forest and waited for the girls to leave so he could follow.

'Well, I could do worse than stalking Little Red Reaper Hood and The Winter Fairy.' Then his head hung when depression started rearing its ugly head again. 'Of course, that hardly means I am less of a stalker.'

What was with him these days?


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Facilitating Communications and Terminating Hostilities

Depression, The Courier decided, was going to cost him his liver, not to mention his rapidly dwindling cigarette reserve. The small bottle of alcohol clutched in his hand and a half-finished cigarette in his mouth (drinking and smoking at the same time was a hard thing to learn), he sneakily followed the pair of girls that had found him earlier, listening to their bickering. Annoyance aside, he'd learned some useful bits of information. First, the pair in front of him was participating in some team-oriented event. Second, Grim Reaper Jr. was actually called Ruby, and Winter Fairy went by the name of Weiss. Third, this forest was called The Emerald Forest and last but not least, the user-unfriendly dolls were called Grimm… huh.

As of a few minutes ago Ruby and Weiss seemed to have lost their way to the final destination of their quest - some Forest Temple place. As of just a minute less, the not-so-civilized conversation between the two had started descending into the terrifying depths of teenage girls quarreling, thus forcing The Courier to seek more information elsewhere. Quietly turning around, he started walking away.

It would be a couple of hours before he realized just what he'd avoided.

* * *

><p>There were a lot more kids than warranted, in his humble opinion, within this blasted forest. The Courier had a long drag on his cigarette and mournfully shook his head. Contrary to popular opinion it would not be some ugly beast that finally put an end to his tale. Raiders, bandits and any refuse of such nature was just as unlikely to accomplish that. Even all the poisons that he regularly put in his body had little chance to put him down. No, it was the sheer power of mindfuck that was much more viable to achieve a feat so monumental as that. And this power, its existence be cursed, had taken the form of another pair.<p>

Oh, by the winds of the Divide, what a pair that was! It consisted of one male and one female individual. The male had long, black hair with just a single neon-pink streak in it and his eyes were the same color. Dressed in some bizarre, green coat-like thing and tan trousers, armed with a pair of green SMGs with curved blades attached to them, he looked like the agile gunman perfected. The female, however, made The Courier really consider laying off the bottle. With bright orange hair, pink mini-skirt and matching fingerless gloves, completed with some sort of armor that _really _accentuated her rather bountiful… assets and a big-ass hammer that made Oh, Baby! look like a toothpick in comparison, she was cheerfully demolishing cuddly monstrosities of the yao-guai variety.

The life of an abstainer kept getting more alluring by the second when, via some mechanic that defied description the hammer transformed into a grenade launcher. Having had a stroke of unconventional genius, the girl proceeded to mount one yao-guai-looking creature and urge it forward… by shooting it repeatedly. Squeals of delight echoed through the forest, while her companion held on for dear life.

Following his new mark, The Courier thought about what he knew as of now. Just what was the significance of the name Grimm and how did they appear? Was it someone like Borous? Or like his colleague Dala, her sick obsession with teddy bears not fully taken root yet? What if they'd formed a team some time before their particular brands of crazy had fully emerged?

What of these kids he kept encountering? According to Weiss and Ruby, the two were part of some event, so what was this event exactly? Some sort of rite of passage and if so, whatever for?

* * *

><p>"Yeeehaw!" the girl shouted excitedly and with one last shot her mount perished, its last moments filled with powerless rage and shrill squeals.<p>

"Did this girl just ride in on an ursa?"

'Oh, look at that, more cute girls. And with tits to spare, no less. Is there at least one that's not cute, or adorable, or pretty, or just smokin' hot?'

Meanwhile, the happy-go-lucky banshee in pink was ogling what looked like a chess piece with the demented curiosity Dala had demonstrated in regards to his organic body.

"I'm queen of the castle, I'm queen of the castle!", the banshee sang, dancing around the clearing while her partner tried to regain his bearings.

"Nora!", oh so that was her name.

"Coming, Ren!" And Ren. Another charming pair of armed and dangerous teenagers that wandered forests and murdered cuddly furries with illusions of grandeur.

Deciding to make his appearance, The Courier strolled into the Forest temple with the sort of gait that shouted experience, skill and utter apathy.

"Greetings and well met," he said politely and tipped his hat.

A deafening roar and the sound of toppling trees was the only answer before the _mother of all radscorpions_ made her apperance, in hot pursuit of yet another pretty girl that looked like a fucking legate…a very fast and agile _female _legate.

"Jaune!" she shouted and from inside a nearby tree a male voice answered with "Pyrrha!"

"Whoa!" Ruby fell from the same tree and went to hug the blonde bombshell, apparently named Yang. Nora saw fit to interfere with said hug and loudly announce herself. Meanwhile, a large flying beast had also joined the lovely get-together, someone was apparently falling from somewhere and the whole situation seemed very grim to Yang.

Everything after that happened quickly - Ruby's charge on the scorpion and consequent retreat; the giant bird's feather-throwing attack and the brilliant save, courtesy of Weiss. At this point all the ongoing communications between the teens turned into insignificant buzzing for The Courier. Teeth clenched, blue eyes burning with hatred, he concentrated all his faculties towards one goal - _kill the scorpion_.

* * *

><p>While the strange and imposing newcomer was having his unnoticed psychotic breakdown, the Beacon applicants had another fish to fry… so to speak.<p>

With the deathstalker incapacitated for the moment and the nevermore circling back, everyone had a few moments to catch their breath and discuss the current situation. First on the agenda was the "Fight or Flight" dilemma, soundly resolved by Weiss and Ruby in favor of the "Flight" option, no opposition. While Ruby and Jaune made their choice of a lifetime, Yang noticed the mysterious newcomer… who was, with deliberate steps, closing the distance between himself and the deathstalker.

"Wait," Yang shouted "you can't go there!"

But her warnings fell on deaf ears. Now joined by Nora, Ren and Weiss, she watched the poor fool go to his death.

"No," Weiss said, "he will not die."

And indeed, he stopped just outside of the beast's range, some cluster of… she did not know what that was, but it looked like grapes, in the man's hand. With an almost casual movement, he flung tree of those grape-like things under the trapped deathstalker and then shot one of them.

The giant scorpion exploded, leaving a large pool of blood under its carcass.

The man lit a cigarette and looked at them.

"Well," he said "are we going or not?"


	4. Interlude

Interlude: The Important People

'I _am _getting the loyal member bullshit bonus,' the sullen thought came while The Courier and his new… acquaintances neared a very familiar patch of forest - one just beneath a big rock. Why, for the short time he'd spent on this accursed world, his life had been a textbook example of an endless bullshit stravaganza.

First was… no, he refused to think of that, no way. Second came the red-eyed, cuddly deathclaw rejects - well, they were really sort of funny. Yao-guai with illusions of grandeur were bearable if a bit uninspired… but _the mother of all radscorpions _- now that was just uncalled for… and dealt with, to The Courier's immense satisfaction. He fucking hated those bugs, even if Mobius loved them so much. And third, with all this shit afoot, he met honest to god teens armed with murder tools that put to shame about anything he'd seen back home. Right now said teens were bringing him to the head honcho, the king of the hill… some guy named Ozpin.

Courier Six steeled himself and lit another cigarette. He was about to meet some new people and see new places… that wandering prick in the back of his head was not going to rest until it got the both of them killed.

'Come on, it can't be that bad, right?'

Fuck. The last time this question popped up in his mind, he'd been lobotomized, his heart and spine replaced with machinery… on the other hand, he'd spoken to his own brain (a pretty charming fellow, if a bit snobby) and met Doctor Mobius, the single resident of Big Mountain that was not completely insane. Why, he still had the good doctor's Mentat. Popping the small pill in his mouth, The Courier swallowed it with a healthy swig from a bottle designated H2O, then smiled. The jaunty tune came unbidden to his lips and he started whistling.

Man, being escorted by a bunch of teenagers was a very strange experience and that said much when it came from The Courier. He was just eager to meet this Ozpin guy and ask him a few questions about the place.

Oh, _oh, ooooh_, there it was, the meeting of truth and the rock of doom, the ultimate combination of fate, bullshit and TITTIES - the man with the cane and the refined suit and a woman with a rather sharp look… and a _very_ nice-looking top, both standing on _the very same fucking rock_ his journey had started from.

* * *

><p>"Greetings, professor Ozpin, professor Goodwitch. I hear you are the people to talk to hereabouts. I am The Courier. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."<p>

'Well, at least he's polite.' mused Ozpin and with a nod sent Glynda to tend to the newly accepted students. Meanwhile, he was going to have a word with this newcomer.

"Yes. Professor Goodwitch, however, has to take care of our newly accepted hunters, so please, excuse her."

"Of course. Hunters?"

"They will be the protectors of the world… after they graduate. They still have much to learn."

"Indeed. Care for a drink?"

"No, but I would much rather know how you came to be here."

The man produced a small flat bottle and took a healthy swig. "I was in trouble and I did something reckless." he said. "And now we are talking."

"I see. Is that what happened to your throat?"

"An… accident. But now I can talk and drink at the same time - _quite_ the nice gimmick. True, I cannot communicate as well as before, but… you know. And don't you have somewhere to be?"

"That I do. And since this is my school, I'll ask you to accompany me. You are about to witness the inauguration of the next generation of hunters, the people that will one day uphold the peace all over Remnant."

"I see, this will be an enlightening experience. Mind if I smoke?"

"No, not at all."


	5. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Stories and Offers

It was morning and The Courier was just finishing his morning coffee while enjoying the view from the window in his room. Good Professor Ozpin had been kind enough to lend him a place to sleep…

_Last evening…_

After the entrance ceremony ended, the headmaster headed to his office, where the stranger from the forest was waiting for him.

"Why, you have quite the nice place here, Professor Ozpin. Peace through superior firepower? I quite like that."

Ozpin's eyebrows rose. "Is this what you think about our school, Mister Courier?"

"You see, my information of this place is fairly lacking, but even with limited knowledge I am capable of drawing a few conclusions."

"Do tell." Glynda's voice .

"Well, it all started in the forest, you see. Here I am, taking a relaxing walk, pondering my lot in life, when these big, black and cuddly monstrosities from hell jump me. Now, I may be a deliveryman, but the place I come from is quite harsh, so people there have to accommodate. And the harsh part includes, but is not limited to critters very similar to the Grimm."

"And when you encountered miss Rose?"

"When I encountered miss Rose, I was struck with the suspicion that affairs in this place are quite dire. A small girl with a weapon such as that, murdering beasts like those - let us say it was a very mystifying experience. So, I followed them, thus learning about this Initiation thing they were apparently participating in."

"Which then made you come here, in the hopes of finding some more information about the place?"

"Exactly. And what I found deeply concerns me."

"How so?" Glynda voiced.

"You may have noticed that my… hardware… shall we say, differs from what you have hereabouts. To put it more accurately, what I have is inferior to local weaponry and yet I did not have much trouble dealing with whatever that blasted forest of yours sent my way. Granted, these kids do not exactly have my experience… and humility… but they more than make up for it in firepower which is, for the purpose of killing Grimm, just over-the-top. So, what was it that warranted the existence of such tools?"

The Courier took a sip from the tea before him and lit another cigarette. Inhale. Exhale. His eyes narrowed slightly. Inhale. Exhale.

"War, that's what. You don't train children to hunt beasties in the woods, although that will certainly be covered during their time here. No, you train them as police, soldiers, agents, people that can and will go into danger in the name of peace. And they will uphold it by beating the concept into any skulls thick enough to not get it… thus inevitably breaking a few."

Glynda Goodwitch glared accusingly at the guest.

"I hardly believe it's your place to comment on such matters, mister… Courier, was it, especially after you killed a deathstalker in such a fashion. Just what was that?"

"Oh, just a little something I thought up to pass the time. It is a cluster of batteries, Micro Fusion Cells we call them, that can produce big amounts of energy. A tweak here, a wire there and you have a hand-held explosive device with formidable power. As for this… deathstalker, it was very similar to the radscorpions back home with just one detrimental flaw."

"Which is?"

"The lack of protection on its belly. Its underside did not have any of that bone carapace at all, so anyone could have just gutted the beast, just as I did. Unlike all others that were present though, I have some experience with critters of similar nature, as previously stated."

"So what was it that necessitated the existence of this Micro Fusion Cell Cluster then?" Ozpin inquired calmly.

The Courier sat silently for several seconds and exhaled a puff of smoke.

"War."

This one word put both Ozpin and Glynda on edge.

"Please, elaborate."

"Two hundred years ago, give or take, the fossil fuels started dwindling." the Courier said. "The whole world stood on the precipice of an energy crisis. Large countries, naturally, moved to secure what little resources remained, thus triggering armed conflicts all around the world that quickly escalated. Small nations went bankrupt and were consequently annexed by larger ones. These small conflicts, called The Resource Wars culminated in what is now known as The Great War."

This did _not _sound good. _At all._

"And what was this Great War exactly?"

"The shortest conflict in the history of mankind. It only lasted about two hours and then the world went to shit."

Silence reigned in the headmaster's office, following the clinical explanation of an apocalypse, only broken by the small puffs of the Courier's cigarette. Finally, eyes narrowed, Glynda Goodwitch found her voice again, albeit strained.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that thousands nuclear warheads fell that day. For two hours the whole planet was a boiling cauldron of fire and death. And that was not even the worst."

The Courier kept delivering information with a cold, impersonal countenance, only enforced by the machine-like voice coming from his choker.

"The very face of the planet changed that day. New mountains were created by the excessive amounts of energy released while civilization committed suicide. All bodies of water were contaminated and rendered undrinkable. That's mostly the case even today, two hundred years later. Horrid changes to climate also occurred as aftermath of the Great War. Now it's summer all the time - scorching, devastating summer reigning over the desert that is Earth right now."

Another cigarette was lit, another sip of the teacup was taken, another bout of stunned silence ensued. Ozpin was fairly sure that the horrified expression on professor Goodwitch's face was mirrored on his own. Pressing on, The Courier resumed his tale.

"Fortunately, there were smart people back then, that saw what was going to happen, and took precautions to ensure the survival of the human race. Vaults were built in order to preserve at least some small number of humans. When the bombs fell, those vaults were sealed for a period of twenty years. That was just enough time for the fallout to settle in."

"So what happened to the other humans, those who were not lucky enough to find a place in the vaults?"

"Surprisingly enough, the death toll was not all that high, considering the scale of the conflict. Even though cities were destroyed, people made their new lives in the ruins of the Old World. Poisoned by the excessive amounts of radiation, some of them turned into what we know today as ghouls - decrepit, rotting, zombie-like mutants. Their skin and ligaments are damaged, but their overall lifespan is prolonged quite a lot - a good number of them have been around since the War. I think you can guess what happened to those who did not mutate."

The background story of his world finished, The Courier reclined in the chair and took another sip of the already long-cold tea. That certainly was one hell of an elaboration.

_Present time…_

With brand-new clothes laid out on the bed and half an hour to spare, that shower was looking more alluring by the second. Ah, yes, one of the clear advantages of this Remnant place was definitely clean water. Letting it flow down his body, The Courier's thoughts strayed again to the talk with Ozpin that landed him in his current situation.

_Last evening…_

"Horrid as it is, I find this story difficult to believe, Mister Courier." Glynda stated, but even as she spoke, she sounded unnerved.

"You trust is irrelevant, Professor Goodwitch." the guest responded. "The story of how the world went to shit is irrelevant as well. The only thing that matters is the fact that, indeed, shit is now fucked, pardon my language."

"If we assume for a moment that your claims are true, then what was your place in that home of yours?" the headmaster inquired in a calm manner.

"I was and still am a courier. In that broken place communities are few and far between and outside their flimsy walls the world awaits. And world is not nice, hasn't been for a long time."

"So you and the others like you are some form of communication between these societies, yes?"

"Yes."

"And what do you intend to do now that your services are no longer needed?" Glynda piped in.

"Right now? A change of occupation, preferably to something a bit more… tame. And I would also like to learn about this place."

"I see. Professor Goodwitch, care to fetch some books for our friend?"

With Glynda out of the office for a minute, Ozpin leaned towards The Courier and looked coldly at him.

"I will ask you only these two things: is what you told us true and second, do you have any ill intentions towards my students?"

"In the same order, yes and no. I would like to make a life here, not enemies. My wanderlust has almost got me killed on more occasions than I care to count so now I am going to get back at it. If you have any suggestions, please share. If not, I will be on my way."

When Glynda returned with copies of "Short History of Remnant", "Dust for Dummies and Other Inadequate Individuals" and the last issue of "Vale Times" Ozpin smiled and spoke again.

"Well, Mister Courier, I have an offer for you."

"I am all ears, sir."

"This school is rather big and there are a lot of people here. We seem to be lacking personnel, you see. So this is my offer: you work here as a… custodian… and in exchange you get free lodgings, three meals a day and two days of rest every week. If you accept, Professor Goodwitch will take care of the details."

The Courier gave a jovial grin and an amused glint lit his blue eyes.

"Well, now. This is certainly an offer I can't refuse. Professor Ozpin, it's a pleasure doing business with you."

_Present time…_

'Hear that, ya piece of fuck? No more trying to get me killed!'

'Sure, whatever you say. We both know that soon you will be neck-deep in whatever shit is happening around here. So don't just stand around, you will be late for you first day of work, Courier… I mean Janitor, sorry.'

Teeth clenched behind a simple smile, the man stepped out of his room and into the world of Remnant. Fuck Earth and fuck couriering. The Janitor was in the house and he was about to brandish the mop in a way unlike any other seen in this world.

'Well, I have job to do. Let's get to it.'


	6. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Queer Moppets and Moping Queers

He liked the gig, he really did. Why, it was the end of the second week and not even ONE person had tried to kill him yet. There were no crazy tapes booming from the intercom system of the school, no anti-communist cyberdogs and last but not least, no laser turrets out for his head. Every morning he woke up and had his coffee, after which he took a shower and headed to work - keeping the school clean and presentable. While rubbing the floors with detergent was not exactly the most thrilling activity, he had to admit that the pros largely outnumbered the cons - warm food, a place to sleep, an opportunity to learn about this new world as opposed to the very real threat of starvation, sleeping wherever and being visited by various denizens of the wasteland. All the boredom was swiftly alleviated by reading books which were found by the number in the school library.

Right about now one such book sat helplessly in the hands of the ex-courier, quietly resigned to its fate, namely being read with the voracious curiosity and rapt attention that only a person aware of the real value of information could have. Every bit helped, every bit was useful, every bit could mean the difference between life and death. And there were some truly interesting bits in about every piece of literature that he put his hands on. For instance, this Dust thingy and its properties were one of the more important matters to research given the fact that about everyone used it in order to commit violence upon one another in addition to its high energy capabilities. In fact, this whole place was completely dependent on Dust and by the looks of things it would not be long before Remnant plunged into a war for resources… and that was if it didn't go to war for equality, sparked by The White Fang. And that brought him to yet another intriguing bit - the faunus.

_Ten days ago…_

Courier Six considered himself largely unflappable and with good reason. Between Big Mountain and the Divide there wasn't much that could rattle him, but this Remnant place was just insane. And the newest piece of proof of that theory was currently staring at him with wide and fearful brown eyes.

Said proof was obviously female, dressed in the school uniform thus revealing long, shapely legs and hinting at the veritable bounty hidden beneath her jacket. But the real issue was a pair of appendages on top of her head, in addition to her normal ears. Quick thinking and good memory helpfully pointed out that the girl cowering before him was most probably a faunus. In the books that good Professor Goodwitch had procured for him, the faunus were described as mostly human in appearance but having some animal traits.

"Are you alright?" he said, putting the mop aside.

No response whatsoever. This girl appeared to have some issues, indeed. And on top of that, she sat on the place he had to clean. On the upside, The Courier… Janitor, did not mind looking at this vision of beauty. On the downside, however, ogling a frightened little girl almost made him hang himself. Truly, it was disquieting that depression was somehow getting better at finding a way into his mind as of late. Or was it just the fact that by the day he kept sinking deeper? Were these bouts of depression actually the lonely cries of a decent person, buried deep beneath all the bloodshed and bullshit? He certainly hoped so, simply because that would make him less of a sad bastard.

"Ummm, mister?"

A timid call brought him out of his musings. The girl, now standing, was currently watching him with a mix of worry and nervousness.

"I am sorry miss, were you saying something?"

Truly, he was the epitome of all that was suave. And the girl before him just barely suppressed a shudder. It was the voice, wasn't it. Or maybe the scars? Behind the smile that he wore always, teeth gnashed with seething anger. Well, what can you do. One of the things the wasteland had taught him was not to worry about shit he could not fix. In such cases it was most prudent, he'd found, to just get wasted and go on his merry way.

"I asked if you were well. You just spaced out, so…"

"I see. You should not worry for little old me." he said, smiling affably. "I just do that sometimes. Now, if I'm not mistaken you have classes to go to, no? Come on, chop-chop!"

The girl gave a shy smile and departed… going through the freshly cleaned floor. Well, nothing else to do now and besides, it _was _his job now, right?

_Present time…_

It was now the second week of his employment and yet another day on the job was finished. So, deciding against moping and brooding over things, The Courier opted for having a drink instead and what better place for that than the very bench he was sitting currently on? Pulling the bottle from his pockets, he comfortably reclined and lit a cigarette. Truly, even though Benny had been a bloody bastard, his taste in lighters was above reproach. And speaking of Benny, The Courier remembered that he still had the fucker's gun, a truly nice piece. It had always been more of a charm than an actual weapon by virtue of its rather weak attacking power but this Dust thingy opened new possibilities for development of ammunition and the gun itself. The Woman of the Apocalypse, huh? He smiled and took a sip of the whiskey bottle in his hand. Truly, there was nothing better after a long day of honest work than a good drink with a book in hand and a nice cigarette, surrounded by peace and quiet, right?

'What the fuck do you mean, shithead? You know you are bored out of your mind. Them books are nice, sure, but you are just not cut for this shit, and you know it.'

Ah, the voice of his nemesis again. And just when it was getting good, too. Yep, the voice of the wandering, the force behind all of his misfortunes after he left good doc Mitchell's house back in Goodsprings, was back… again. And just what the hell kind of name was "Goodsprings", anyway? What was so good about those springs? Good fortune? Uncontaminated water? Well, it certainly did not mean good fortune for about anyone that lived there, what with Powder Gangers and a nest of bloody cazadores just a couple hours walking north. And why would he think about that now, when it no longer held any significance to him?

'Because you miss it, that's why.'

Yeah, sure. But what was it that he missed, exactly? The danger? The money? What?

"Excuse me? Are you feeling well?"

* * *

><p>Classes over for the day and the rest of the team off to god knows where, a pair of first-year students leisurely strolled towards the dormitories.<p>

Jaune Arc and Pyrrha Nikos were tired and hardly shared Nora's enthusiasm to go… somewhere, none of them exactly sure where. Ren, the stoic, heroic man that he was, did not make even one sound even as Nora dragged him away. Truly, Lie Ren was a man on a whole other level - always calm, always composed, even in the grinning face of his childhood friend. So now, half of team JNPR carelessly strolled towards their dorms, when Jaune slowed his pace and pointed to a particular bench, where, alone, sat a very strange person.

This person stared into the sky, a wisp of smoke slowly going upwards from his mouth and his right hand, holding a small bottle, hung limply. Jaune gave Pyrrha a questioning look and they headed to the person.

"Excuse me? Are you feeling well?"

Jaune just had to hand it to her, she was truly a future huntress paragon - polite, capable, smart and strong, not to mention her real desire to help people. In his humble opinion, the reverence she was regarded with was completely justified.

"Mm? Did you need something delivered?"

The affable smile on the man's lips and the almost-jovial glint in his eyes sharply contrasted with the machine-like voice that came out of the choker. What was with this person?

"Hey, weren't you the one that killed that deathstalker during Initiation? What happened to your v…"

The sentence was cut abruptly by Pyrrha's hand, covering his mouth. The man regarded him with a mirthful look and shook his head.

"Now, now. Don't you think you should introduce yourself before asking personal questions?"

"Indeed, we apologize for our misconduct. I am Pyrrha Nikos and this is Jaune Arc, of team JNPR."

"Ah, the white rook pieces. I was rather impressed with your agility, miss Nikos. So what brings you and your team leader to me?"

"We just noticed you and it seemed like you were not feeling good, so we decided to see if you needed any help. Did we intrude?"

"No, not really." he said and took a drag of his cigarette.

"Uhhh… do you mind if I ask you something?" Jaune rubbed the back of his head with some embarrassment.

"Yes?"

"What is your name, mister? I mean, we gave you ours, so…"

The man stood up, spitting the cigarette to the side. Draining the bottle, he took a step forward, thus standing just scant few inches away from the leader of team JNPR. Two pairs of blue eyes connected. Beside Jaune, Pyrrha tensed.


	7. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Examples Gone Bad

Weiss was glaring. The heiress of the Schnee Dust Company, Ruby had found, could be quite intimidating with her glare - when she did that, it was as if the temperature around her dropped a few degrees and one suddenly felt like an insignificant bug that only lived by Her Majesty's good graces. Team RWBY's leader was staring at her teammate and partner nervously. Today it was just her and Weiss because Blake and Yang (the latter with great displeasure) had to go to the library for some materials for history class.

The reason for Weiss' displeasure sat on a bench, a bottle of booze in his hand and a cigarette haphazardly hanging from the corner of his mouth. It was the same man that, if memory served, just scant three weeks ago had killed a deathstalker in a manner that shouted "routine". It was also safe to say that apparently the "Ice Queen" trademark glare did not have the same effect on him, all alcohol and apathy before the pair's gaze.

"Uh, mister?" Ruby tried meekly. The man's eyes focused on her and the girl flinched, albeit unwillingly. The weight of that stare was not something that Weiss could manage just yet.

"May I help you, miss Rose?"

This time Weiss flinched. There was something very disturbing about this person and it was not just his voice. Ruby remembered what Blake had said some time ago about him - that beneath the jovial sparks in his eyes something not quite… nice… lingered. Ruby Rose was _not_ exactly keen on seeing what the thing in question was. And was it just her, or did his smile just for the briefest of moments turn rigid and sharp?

"Well, uhh… I uhhh… you know that consuming alcohol on school grounds is prohibited, right?"

A nod was the only acknowledgement of her statement.

"Well, uh…"

The man just rose one eyebrow and Ruby got the impression that he just was accommodating them but did not care in the least about school regulations.

"Are you not aware that the grounds are monitored at all times?" Weiss interjected.

The eyebrow rose a fraction higher thus delivering a facial expression that just screamed "So what?" with a loud-hailer. Weiss was starting to lose her temper if the small twitch of _her _eyebrow was any clue.

Ruby prepared to physically restrain her partner when the janitor just took another sip of his bottle and calmly lit another cigarette. Just where did he get those, anyway?

"Well," he said, the affable smile widening a bit, "There is a funny story behind this, you see…"

_Exactly one week ago…_

He was just relaxing peacefully on his favorite bench, a drink in hand and a bunch of questions in mind when she appeared before him. All stilettos and bondage, Glynda Goodwitch was, as always, a sight to behold. Eyes narrowed, a displeased frown marring her fair features, she stood before the Courier, voice hot with righteous fury, yet calm as a mountain lake.

"What do you think you are doing?"

Smiles and sunshine, Courier, smiles and sunshine.

"Well, I am, as you can see, indulging myself in private vices. This absinthe is very good. I ain't misbehavin' or anything."

"Have you read the regulations? No, forget that. Are you _drunk_?"

The finely arched eyebrow just left no room for doubt. He'd read the regulations and he simply did not care. The Courier so enjoyed effective communication. Why waste words and time when with just a small gesture he could say his piece just as well, if not better, than those long-winded sentences. It was like a bullet really. When it was required, he just murdered the shit out of whoever, normally in a great, yet routine display of gunmanship accompanied with a display of his simplest smile and a stunning demonstration of being all chill and not caring at all. You know, as opposed to long speeches that expressed most negative feelings and explained the necessity of the murder. In other words the same result with less fuss. Truly, efficiency was great. Come to think of it, that was one of the issues he was deliberating on when the paragon of whips and tits had accosted him in her gross displeasure.

"I will have you know that I am _not _drunk. My condition is called "being delightfully relaxed after a day of honest work". Please, have that in mind."

A most interesting twitch was developing on the good professor's face. And the glare… the glare was exquisite. As was the booze. Indeed, there was nothing better than having a drink in the company of a fine lady after a day of work. It felt just so… gratifying.

"Please do not glare at me, professor. You train kids to fight whatever you send them against and at the same time you expect to be taken seriously when you reprimand me on getting wasted on school grounds. Mind you, I have nothing against getting drunk elsewhere, but my financial assets are not what they used to be, so I have to make do with a bench."

"I can't see what that has to do with your public disregard of the rules. Furthermore, you are setting a bad example to the students. I will ask you to desist."

_Present time…_

"Apparently I was giving bad examples, can you imagine? A paragon of humanity and bad examples! The gall!"

Weiss and Ruby looked at him unsurely when the girl in red discreetly pulled on her teammate's sleeve. The man's blue eyes were getting cloudier by the second and his monologue was quickly devolving into what Weiss would later describe as a psychotic ramble. The girls were getting increasingly sure that he had forgotten their entire existence.

"Well, what can you do. I really _am _giving bad example to your schoolmates. However, it's their own bloody choice to actually follow it, is it not, eh?"

The janitor just puffed once with the cigarette that he'd somehow managed to light in the middle of his bout of crazy. His eyes now looked kind of dull and the small, half-finished bottle just… swayed in his grip, the brown liquid idly sloshing inside.

"On the other hand, people that aspire to be hunts-somethings must surely have enough brains to think and decide for themselves if they want to be chain-smoking drunkard gofers or not."

"Be that as it may, the fact remains that you are in violation of the rules." Weiss argued sensibly. The man just rolled his eyes at her and sighed. Or at least Ruby thought he did. That device on his neck altered the sound to something she could not exactly describe, but considered vaguely disturbing.

"I will tell you the same thing I told Professor Goodwitch. I would love to go somewhere else, but unfortunately I got no money to do it. Believe you me, I'd like nothing more than to drink and brood in peace, without every few minutes some kid looking at me like I am some sort of strange animal. For realsies though, you people are supposed to fight monsters for a living and a drunk janitor is a novelty to you lot? Grow up."

His speech finished, the man went to take a swig of his drink, when his hand froze mid-air and a sudden realization seemed to have downed on him. Suddenly his gaze fell on Weiss and two pairs of blue eyes met. Ruby felt her partner freeze up. Looking at the man in front of them, she could see why - he appeared to be contemplating none other but Weiss - a fact the heiress was not all that happy about, considering the expression on her face.

"Say, your name was Weiss, right. Weiss _Schnee_, right?"

Uh-oh.

"So?"

"You see, I think I have a way out of this most unpleasant situation. All it will require is some pocket change and the location of the nearest gambling den. Care to supply the change? You are rather well off, I hear. Come on, I will give it back, you'll see."

The poisonous retort died on the heiress's lips when the unmistakable clacking of stilettos filled the air. The very fires of hell burned in Glynda Goodwitch's glare.

"You." She almost spat the word. "Come with me. Now. And _you_," She nodded to the girls, "go to your dorm. You have homework to do, yes?"

Ruby and Weiss quickly headed to their room, not wanting to be anywhere near the person that had incurred the good professor's fearsome wrath. Oh, he was in for it now. Suppressing a shudder, the girls left the poor janitor to his fate. Such was the harsh reality they lived in, after all.

* * *

><p>"What should I do with you?"<p>

Yeah, that was a good question. For starters it would be better to remove yourself from that dick-shaped chair you so much like. But the Courier was a master at speechcraft and tactfully remained silent. Glynda Goodwitch just sighed and shook her head. What did they expect from him? A heartfelt apology? Waaaait, it really _was_ an apology they were after, wasn't it? Well, okay, there goes nothing.

"I am sorry, headmaster. Unfortunately I am having some difficulty adjusting to life here. You know my story, so it should come as no surprise that my habits are rather on the… boorish side. I will, of course, understand if you feel reluctant to let me stay."

"Is this all you have to say for yourself?" Glynda asked irritably. "An almost whole month you have been in our employ and you have done nothing, but drink and smoke after hours."

"Ah, but my floors are impeccable, no?" Well, that ought to shut her up for a spell. If they'd paid him something, he'd have his own Dust shop by now.

"What, may I ask then, possessed you to try and shake my students down for money then?"

Must… resist… facepalm. Must… resist… A loud smack echoed through the headmaster's office.

"I _so_ did not shake her down. I simply asked her for a small investment in order to address both of our worries, namely my lack of financial assets and her displeasure with my humble person's indulgence in alcoholism and other self-destructive activities. I am a man of my word and I _would_ have reimbursed miss Schnee handsomely."

"And we should believe you?" Inquired Glynda crossly.

"We have a simple way to confirm the truth now, do we not? If she will not lend me the cash, how about you? Surely a couple hundred lien are not all that much to ask for? Should I fail to deliver on my promise, you can deduct them from my salary. Or flat out kick me to the curb."

"I see. In this case I bid you good night, mister Courier. I will think about your offer and give you my answer in a few days. Until then, though, please try to enjoy your vices somewhere… less public. I have complete trust in our students' abilities in critical thinking, but our school's prestige is a different matter. You see, some people might take issue with a chain-smoking drunk gofer."

"I understand. Have a good night headmaster, professor."

Smiling widely, with eyes alight, The Courier made his exit. Things were going to get fun shortly enough. For now though, it was time to rest. His job awaited him on the morrow. The jaunty tune came to his lips by its own.


End file.
